Mother's Day Gifts
by wallscrolls
Summary: Maybe, today, it was a good coincidence that my birthday was the same day as Mother's Day.


Maybe, today, it was a good coincidence that my birthday was the same day as Mother's Day.

Actually, though it might sound strange, that was how I usually remembered that my birthday existed at all.

Mother was really busy, so she never seemed to do anything for my birthday. I didn't really mind it, since it was never something I was used to.

Truthfully, for a while I didn't even realize I had a birthday. Once a year, Mother would bring home a cake for herself, and it would be her birthday. It was a cheerful day. I didn't even care about the cake, because on her birthday, Mother never hit me, even when I made a mistake.

It had taken me a long time to realize that the "birth" in birthday was because one had been born. At first, I had thought that my mother was the only one with a birthday, or maybe only adults, because she had never brought home a cake for me.

It had been embarrassing when I heard one of the other kids talking about their own birthday, and expressed my surprise. This turned into them being surprised at _me_ , because everyone was supposed to have one. This wasn't something I knew, even though to these other children my age, it had seemed obvious. Well, it was only obvious to them because the adults had told them that, and bought them a cake every year to make sure they didn't forget. I, who had neither such thing in my life, never knew.

That night I asked Mother about it.

She looked at me with those eyes that made me think I might have made a mistake. She wasn't angry, not yet, but they were eyes that I knew were very similar to the eyes she often made in those cases.

Ah, was I not supposed to ask?

That was when she told me that each time my age changed, that was because of my birthday.

I wanted to ask about the cake, but those eyes told me that I shouldn't, clearer than any words.

In that case, when is my birthday, I asked her. It has been a long time since my age last changed, so maybe soon I'll be old enough to not have to be told what my new age was. I could do it on my own, without troubling her.

Next week.

"Next week, like Mother's Day?"

I had seen lots of store signs about such a thing, with bright displays in the colors of the skin of Mother's face as she cried, the liquid that sometimes leaked out of my body, and the bruises that were left behind after she got upset at me. Those were what I knew of those colors in relation to Mother.

Ah, Mother's Day seemed like it might be a terrible day, after all.

But she smiled when I asked that, saying such a thing like, "You've learned about Mother's Day now? Such a good child."

I still didn't know what it was, though. I think I was supposed to learn, because when Mother's Day happened, Mother was upset that I didn't know what to do.

I was supposed to get her a present, I realized too late. I'd made a mistake.

That night was indeed the colors of Mother's Day.

My birthday, actually, had been three days before that. I had thought that Mother might just have been giving an easy answer to my annoying question, but then she actually told me when I turned a year older, that it meant today was my birthday. There still was no cake, and Mother still hit me for my mistakes. So I think her birthday was still the only special one.

The next year, and from then on, I made sure to get her a present on Mother's Day.

This year, I had decided, when the banners started to appear with their sad pinks, their messy reds, and their painful purples, announcing the date as the one that it took me a couple seconds to remember as matching my birthday, I would get Mother a cake.

Even if it wasn't a birthday cake, and even if it wasn't for me, it would surely make Mother happy, I thought.

Besides, a cake for Mother would definitely be much better than a cake for me. I wasn't the sort of child who deserved a cake.

If I had been, there would be cake on my birthday as well, without it being a holiday for Mother.

That Mother's Day, like all the others, had a lot of families in the park. It felt strange to me, whose mother worked very hard at night and slept through the day, to see them out in the daylight like this. But on TV, most families went to bed at the same time. It was just because Mother worked so hard that we didn't get to do that.

I left the park earlier than usual, so I could be home before Mother headed out to work. This time I stopped by one shop that I usually walked past on my way home. For the past two weeks it had been decorated, like many others, in those terrible colors. But it had cakes in the window, so I stopped in.

I asked for a cake for Mother's Day.

Surely it was a good coincidence. They had a single cake left.

It was small, even smaller than the cakes that Mother would bring home for her birthday, but that was alright. I didn't mind even if I couldn't eat any of it. As long as it made Mother happy.

That was the cake I took home.

I didn't make it home before she woke up, but she was still getting changed in her room when I opened the door. I tried to slip in quietly, but surely she'd heard me close the door behind me, because when she opened her door and looked down the hall, she was still missing some of her jewelry.

"Shuuya? Did something happen?"

Ah, no, I made her worry. My heart froze in my chest, and for a moment, I was afraid that I'd already done something wrong. But no, I had a reason for something like this…!

Because it was Mother's Day, I explained, I wanted to come home before she left. That seemed to be a good answer, because she went back into her room without asking any more questions. I went to the kitchen and started getting the cake ready. It was then that I realized: what if she didn't have time before work? I hadn't thought about that. If I were giving her flowers, she could tell me to put them into a vase and leave me alone like usual, but cake took time to eat.

"Ah…"

Maybe if I put it in a container, she could bring it with her? That was the most correct choice, I thought, so leaving the cake on the counter, I began looking through the cupboards for something to put it in.

Did we have anything like that? We must. I've seen her put food into containers before.

In that case, why couldn't I find any?

If I didn't find any, Mother wouldn't be able to take the cake with her.

Just as I was thinking that, I opened another cupboard to continue my search, and found the contents of it spilling out onto me, making a loud noise.

This wasn't good. I had to clean it up before she saw this mess…!

"Shuuya!"

Apparently Mother had already finished getting ready, and at the sound of my name, I turned to find her looking at the pile around me. Ah, this was the worst timing. I stumbled over my feet and my words, trying to get out an apology as the world seemed to move in a blur around me.

I must have tripped on a pot, since a sharp pain exploded through the side of my face, bringing my surroundings back into clarity. I pushed myself up from the floor, but though I was sure I didn't fall again, another pain shot through me from nearly the same place.

Ah, I understand. I hadn't tripped at all. My birthday was still just another day.

It seemed I'd be seeing the colors of Mother's Day again this year.

* * *

I double-checked that the bathroom had locked behind me, even going so far as to giving the door a little shove to make certain it wouldn't open.

Everyone else had already gone to bed, though I wasn't about to rely on everyone having already fallen asleep.

I was still up, after all.

I flicked on the light, and the darkness of the late evening instantly scattered from the small room, no longer hiding my exhausted expression from the unsympathetic eyes of the mirror.

Aah, today _had_ been truly exhausting, hadn't it?

Leaning on the sink, I closed my eyes and let out a sigh.

When I opened them again, my haggard face was no longer the one staring back at me.

Quite literally, I mumbled it to myself.

"Happy Mother's Day."

Mother had never given me more than a small smile whenever I had said it. Even when I gave her flowers, or something else she hadn't hated, it hadn't felt like I had made her _happy_. I wasn't the sort of child who could make her happy.

Ironically, I could make the face in the mirror look as happy as I wanted. But at some point, it seemed wrong, fake, distorted. After all, Mother had never smiled so wide. Not for me.

My shoulders shook and my eyes stung. The reflection of Mother in front of me blurred, even though I knew it should be perfectly clear. I leaned forwards the last few centimeters and let my forehead press against the mirror, shutting my eyes so I didn't have to see her anymore.

How stupid. I could just make it go away if I wanted.

I suppose I hadn't grown up at all over the years. Maybe I just wanted to think that if we'd been given the chance, things would have gotten better.

I let my guard down entirely.

One hand went from the sink to the mirror to press against it as I nearly collapsed, sobbing beneath the mask of my ability. Despite the racket I knew I was making, the echo of a song I had never heard reached my ears easily.

In the small space, the noise of the words I manufactured bounced back to me, as if someone else had been singing them after all.

"Happy birthday to you,

"Happy birthday to you,

"Happy birthday, my dear Shuuya,

"Happy birthday to you…"


End file.
